Under the Light of this Moon
by TehPrimeraHaruoka
Summary: Based loosely around Six Trillion Years and an Overnight Story- Sent to recover the next king, Commanding Officer Shintaro Kisaragi is sent to the kingdom of Kagerou to find the only son of the Lord of Clearing Eyes. Imagine his surprise when he finds him imprisoned in a dungeon and completely unaware of the world around him. KuroShinKono and hints of HaruShin. Rating may change.


**Oh wow, look at this, I'm totally not dead you guys, I just haven't been living much these past couple of months. I'm really, really sorry to all of the fans of My Crazy Boyfriend because I still don't have chapter five up… never fear, I meant what I said when I said that I wasn't gonna abandon it. Anywhoozies, that isn't what this is about, this is actually gonna be like a one or two-shot fic that, of course is KuroShinKono (or is it KuroShin?) that is based around Six Trillion Years and an Overnight Story which is an amazing song by IA, (I recommend the Ashestoashesjc cover) and what is literally my only source of inspiration for this entire thing. I don't know, it's weird looking back at my KuroShinKono fics because I think that they're so sloppy now… maybe I'll re-write everything…**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Me No Own This Franchise. Sorry.**

* * *

It was dark and dank. The oppressive odour of dried blood and mouldy walls stifled the air and weighed the already depressing atmosphere of the brick enclosure. Ripped and soaked strips of rough, white cloth was flung about the room haphazardly and crimson flecks painted a trail from the heavily rusted iron door to a darker, cold corner of the small cell.

A rather mangy body barely covered with strips of stained white cotton was curled rather tightly around itself. A head of long unkempt ebony tresses that were thick and tangled collected the dust around the figure while rather bony plates, much resembling the scales of a dragon or serpent, covered nearly every inch of the figure's body, save its face and the palms of its hands. Long, angry gashes that still bled sluggishly were splattered like an unholy canvas across its back while old bruises and scars shone in a sick deep purple or disgusting yellow with small traces of pink or scarlet overlapping older cuts.

A boy, no older than perhaps fifteen with dull yet piercing amber eyes stared resolutely at his cage. He had grown used to the pain that was associated with his existence, the rocks that would be thrown and the whips that would dig deeply into the tissue of his skin when the king would order him flogged for being in his presence; he was completely and utterly used to this. He shifted his battered body slightly, wincing at the shackles that bound his feet together. The metal ate deeply into his ankles and the extra weight was something that often led to his scales being broken and crushed under the iron.

He sighed heavily, stifling a pained wheeze as his lungs protested vehemently at the sharp intake of air. Right, he had to remember that one of the guards, Kano or something, had kicked him rather viciously earlier. His slightly pointed ears perked at the sound of heavy leather against the stone ground. A soft voice made him sigh with relief, today; at least, he'd be fed.

Painfully and slowly he twisted his body to face the large barred door that isolated him from the rest of the world, his large curved fangs already producing the required toxin to paralyse and liquefy whatever he would be fed. The small clunk of the key hitting the cogs and unlocking his door reverberated loudly within his ears as a small woman with long, wavy platinum blonde hair and wide, innocent pink eyes opened the door.

Her entire frame was trembling, as if she was expecting the boy to lunge and attack her at the slightest provocation. She was dressed in the standard military outfit, blue flak jacket over a deep grey turtleneck and black pants with her choice of weapon (a sword of all the things) around her waist and tall knee high leather boots .She was definitely a rookie, that or she had just been promoted to a seated officer of the ranks. The boy looked over her rather uninterestedly, a small frown tugging at his split, chapped lips. His forked tongue was already dripping with his own brand of Tetrodotoxin, the ashy white liquid dripping down his chin and pooling around him. The guards were beginning to learn at least, he couldn't-_wouldn't_\- eat anything he hadn't killed himself. Instincts dictated it.

The sporadic clucking of a rather plump hen caught his attention immediately, his dulled amber eyes instantly taking on a crimson tinged hue that caused the young lady's hackles to raise ever so slightly. She hugged the hen to her chest tightly, seemingly reluctant to let it go into the jaws of the monster before her.

The toxins that he was producing were slowly beginning to evaporate, his fangs were also beginning to poke out from his lips, the anticipation building within his stringy, underdeveloped muscles.

"Let me eat."

The poor lady flinched terribly when the raspy, unused voice of the boy hit her. His eyes were now both clouded with what could only be described as bloodlust and his scales had taken on a dark shade of grey. He flicked his forked tongue out and tasted the air, a small, absolutely blood-freezing grin appearing on his face.

The woman was afraid of him.

They obviously hadn't told her of the complications that arose with feeding him. He could hear it nagging at him, the hazy, deep voice that wrapped itself like a silk blindfold around his senses when he was ready to drop from hunger or injuries. The whispers were comforting to him, a security blanket to keep him from going insane from the heavy silence that plagued the cell he resided in.

Or perhaps insanity is what bore those very voices in the first place.

His piercing crimson eyes, heavily lidded with hunger and a sadistic sort of joy, peeked from behind his curtain of tangled raven locks and the woman dropped the hen in pure terror, a scream ripping its way from her throat when the boy instantly struck the hen, his long, slender fangs digging into its throat relentlessly as his now extended claws, dripping with the same vile smelling ashy substance as his tongue, tore immediately into its plumage. She fled the scene, unwilling to know whether she would be his next target, foolishly leaving the door wide open and dropping the key behind her.

The boy hissed in irritation as one of his fangs hit the cartilage of the hen's neck, the soft bone capturing his curved fang between grooves of the spine, forcing him to twist and withdraw from his now still prey. Fresh blood dripped down his face as he looked at the hen with a twisted sort of pride. There were next to no feathers around him, the only blood that had been split was from the puncture wounds above its lungs and the blood that stained his mouth and fangs which had already retracted. Vaguely he noted the door that was wide open for the world to see of his latest achievement and he had long decided that it would be in his greatest interest if he found a way out before the people of this God-forsaken town honestly killed him. He got to his feet slowly, still extremely faint from the blood loss he had suffered earlier in the day and wobbled his way to the door. He winced with every step, the iron shackles grating across the stone and creating a terrible dragging sound that blasted his sensitive hearing. He caught the glint of the discarded key and smirked as he carefully bent to pick it up.

His smirk widened considerably when he scented the key, the lingering scent of the woman's fear sending pleasurable shivers down his spine. He suddenly doubled over as a coughing fit took him, a small ball of feathers and elastic skin covered in a slimy, sickly green coating ejecting itself from his body. He grinned and turned back to his meal before grimacing, he would have to make it stretch for at least a month.

He closed the heavy door behind him, at least, this time, he had been fed.

* * *

His night had gone past incredibly quickly, after swallowing the hen and throwing up the unwanted parts of his meal, legs, claws, beak so forth and so on, he curled back into the darkest, dampest area of the stone room and fell asleep. He was actually rather lucky; he had thought to himself, due to his acute lack of proper muscular development, the protein and fat that was held in the hen's body would be more than enough to allow him to survive for a month.

Then his mind began to wonder.

He had been born to the past queen of the village, a beautiful woman named Azami who was unable to bear children naturally. From what he had pieced together from the guards' gossip and constant drivel his father was a powerful deity that had bedded his mother and, in the process, caused her to conceive him. His mother had died during childbirth, leaving her next of kin, an absolutely stunning woman by the name of Momo, in charge of the village.

As it would turn out, the lady was completely and utterly insane and when she had found out that he was born nearly eighty percent serpent, she had nearly had him put to death as a baby. Apparently, her husband, the king of Kagerou (for that was the kingdom's name) had decided that it would better to keep him as "protection", really, he didn't exactly see the logic behind it all. His days were completely dark and mangled, a shower of blows and blood sprays and tugged shackles that threatened to sever his ankles from his legs and his nights were silent monotone, the constant, unwavering grey and deep black of his damp hair against the stark white of his less-than-loin cloths.

The familiar sound of leather against stone made his ears perk. It was far too early for them to need him, it was barely past sunrise. Even from this distance, he could smell that tangy scent of lemons and nutmeg, Kano, and the fresh, summer scent of his partner-in-crime, Seto. An unfamiliar scent grabbed his interest though, the sickeningly sugary scent of carbonated fizz and the musty odour of old tomes. Blue felt ink also hung heavily on the unidentified figure as well as he underlying scent of something undeniably… _primal _that completely entranced him.

The door was swung open and along with the two guards, there was a rather curiously dressed man in a long, silk red scarf that was tied around his neck. Narrow, sharp absolutely _frigid_ crimson eyes shone with a distinct irritation and a head of polished, shiny ebony swayed elegantly as he was man-handled into the cell.

"You bastards have no idea who the hell you're messing with! You idiots are lucky I'm under orders." His voice was an uneven baritone, not quite smoothed out with age, yet just deep enough to be relaxing to the senses.

"Yeah, and her majesty wants to invite you to tea. Enjoy your stay with Madu. Hopefully, he kills you slowly."

And just like that, the cell's heavy door was closed, the echoing clunk of the key hitting the cogs solidifying the fact that they were locked within the room.

The scent of irritation hung heavily over his shoulders, like a bodyguard, anger and slight exasperation were mixed into the concoction as well, apparently the man in red hadn't noticed that he was observing him. The teen was quickly proven wrong, however, when suddenly; deep scarlet orbs were staring at him unflinchingly.

"Yo. Guess I'm stuck with you, huh?"

The teen blinked before tilting his head at the unfamiliar figure and narrowing his eyes at the person in front of him. Usually, the other humans couldn't look at him for more than a couple seconds before screaming bloody murder.

However, this one simply looked on at him with an irritated scowl and passive eyes, he had his arms folded comfortably under his scarf and had pulled his dark black coat tighter around himself, shivering a bit from the draft. He stuck his hand out in the boy's direction, "Okay. Well, you don't seem like the chatty type. That's fine. I'm Shintaro."

The serpentine teen switched the line of his vision from the passive scarlet to the gloved hand that was stretched out to him. He knew what it was, a handshake or something along those lines. His claws were constantly producing poisons though, so there was a good chance that he'd accidently infect Shintaro.

"Hey, don't know what a handshake is? How long have you been down here anyway?"

He withdrew his hand and scratched behind his head nervously, his irritated scent becoming deeply tinged in uncertainty. The teen poked his forked tongue out of his mouth and tasted the air briefly; it was the best way to register this new identity after all. Amber eyes widened at the strange 'taste'. He tasted tropical, like some obscure spice, the smell of ink and dusty books were strong and clung to him stubbornly.

Unconsciously, the teen moved closer to Shintaro, the intoxicating scent, spurring the instinctual voices in is head. He didn't notice the sharp change in scent from uncertainty to shock to fear. He didn't notice the sweat that had begun to pool behind the scarf, nor did he care. He had backed the slightly shorter man into the wall and was now holding on rather tightly to his shoulders, pressing his nose to the curve between Shintaro's head and shoulders and inhaling deeply.

"You smell nice. Like spice."

He noticed that Shintaro was strangely relaxed after that, like he had been expecting something like this even though he smelled heavily of fear and nerves. He felt Shintaro's gloved palms touch his shoulders and squeeze roughly. The man was breathing heavily and the blood was flowing to his face and circulating through his body, the pulses resonating loudly within the serpent's mind.

"Uh… thanks, I guess? Uh, quick question, are you really gonna eat me?"

He had heard Shintaro swallow and glanced upwards from where he was situated to peak at him from underneath his long tangled bangs. His forked tongue was poking out of his mouth and his fangs were extending without his consent, he could feel his body changing the make-up of his toxin, not meant to paralyse, but instead to seduce.

"No. I'd rather lick you all over."

A nervous chuckle ripped its way out of his throat and he was squeezing his shoulders a lot tighter now. The smell of fear was slowly being replaced with the smell of… was that discomfort?

"Umm…Should I be flattered or…?"

The teen was confused. His body was moving and reacting without his consent and his ankles were beginning to hurt again, he still hadn't taken the shackles off. He looked up at Shintaro once more and noticed that his blood had settled rather stubbornly to his cheeks and that his crimson eyes were widened in expectation… or was that apprehension?

Something then quickly caught his attention, there was something square-shaped in his pants, it bulged rather noticeably and stank of ink and alcohol. He wished to touch it, however his claws were still saturated, he didn't want to accidentally injure Shintaro. He dropped to his knees rather suddenly and pointed at the front pocket of Shintaro's pants, looking up in expectation and curiosity, "What's this?"

He noticed that Shintaro's pulse had evened out and that his scent was changing once more. Now he smelled amused and a small, crooked smile settled onto his features, evening out the crease in his brow. He stooped down to meet the teen's face and slipped his hand into the pocket, pulling out a small hard-covered notebook and opening the pages to reveal beautiful ink drawings of him and another boy. He looked a lot like Shintaro in fact, the only differences were that he had shorter black hair that was fluffy looking and a beauty mark under his left eye. He looked rather sickly but his smile was bright and brought an eternal youthfulness to him.

Shintaro pointed to the other boy, his smile becoming gentle, "That's Haruka. Do you want to hold the book?"

The teen looked down at his claws before looking up blankly at Shintaro, "I'd dissolve it. My claws are… corro… corrosive."

Shintaro rose an eyebrow before taking one of his right glove off and taking the teen's hand in his left. He slipped the glove on and gave a slightly wider, still rather crooked smile to the serpent, "There. Now you can hold it."

The teen stared at the thick, black article of clothing in awe, his hands were usually extremely cold, so the comforting warmth that the glove brought was rather welcomed. He relaxed his body and experimentally ran the pads of his fingers over the soft cloth, "Aren't you afraid of me?"

It was an innocent question, a simple observation that he had made, true enough, the scent of fear had completely left the dark room, a warm smell filling the air instead, something he hadn't experienced before. Shintaro looked at him with questioning red eyes before scratching the back of his neck and chuckling nervously, averting his gaze and focusing on the barred door, "Nah, you're too innocent for me to be scared. I mean, sure, when you attached yourself to me I thought that you were gonna eat me, but you seem curious enough. I have a friend like you."

At that, the teen perked up. There was someone else like him? Someone with scales and claws and fangs too?

"They are serpentine as well?"

Shintaro turned his eyes to him, "No, you misunderstand. He doesn't know much about the world. He lost his memory after an accident and that was that. Which reminds me, why _are_ you down here in the first place?"

The teen looked down and stopped petting the fabric. His amber eyes immediately took on a dull hue once more, "Not sure. Momo doesn't like me much. Tried to kill me after Azami died."

At the mention of the name 'Azami', Shintaro sat up straight and his eyes narrowed, the crimson darkening slightly, "Azami-chan is dead? Where's her son?"

The teen flinched at that and turned his head away, focusing on the stain of blood that had been there long before he had taken up residency, "I'm him."

There was a prolonged period of silence and the teen noted that Shintaro's scent had changed quite a number of times before settling on anger. He heard the clicking of teeth and then he felt Shintaro's hand on his shoulder.

"Shit, well this complicates things. We don't have much time, so I'll just tell you straight."

The teen blinked at the distinct scent of anticipation on Shintaro before glancing into his eyes. The crimson was heavy and his mouth was set into a small frown that made the teen want to sink his teeth into his neck and hear him _scream_.

Oh, the voices were back.

He shook his head and glanced at Shintaro once more and focused, "Repeat?"

The man just shook his head and repeated his last sentence, "How would you like to be free?"

* * *

**Ahhh, I'm finally finished with this one. **

**I'm gonna really love writing this one because, just in case you guys haven't noticed, Kuro isn't really… Kuro right now. As I stated above, this is gonna end up being like a two or three-shot because I could do a number of things with this verse, but I prefer this. I also have to get started on doing the two-shot for Is That Alright which was requested by Hannah-sama, so that's gonna be the next thing going up.**

**Thank you for reading this, and don't forget to leave a comment, favourite, follow or whatever other option is down there. (Really, I just want to know how you guys think I did…)**

As always, watch out for Azami-sama and don't let the Snake of Clearing eyes bite ya, I'll see ya later

-Eren~


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